


first violin

by olfrogbait



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Homophobia, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23462791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olfrogbait/pseuds/olfrogbait
Summary: Princes Dan and Phil agree to get married in order to forge a political alliance.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	first violin

**Author's Note:**

> This concept was originally conceived for Phandom Fic Fests' Escape from Reality event (prompt: Trope Celebration), but it got out of hand, and then I got stuck, so it's far too late to be part of that collection.
> 
> Big thanks to the talented [indistinct-echo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indistinct_echo/pseuds/indistinct_echo) for their gentle feedback and guidance, without which this probably would've been abandoned. 
> 
> Note: Typos and other errors are still all mine!
> 
> Part 2 shouldn't be too far behind, but you'll definitely get it faster if you [harass me on tumblr](https://olfrogbait.tumblr.com/) about it. :)

As the sun sets on the evening of the equinox, a breeze smelling faintly of fresh earth drifts through the open window. Snow drifts still lurk in shady corners, but spring is coming. The perfect time for new beginnings.

Dan’s entire adolescence and most of his twenties had been lost to the war. Now that it’s finally over, his family, once wealthy and powerful, is licking their wounds and attempting to pick up the pieces of a vanquished and depressed kingdom. 

Only twelve years old when it started, Dan had been too young to have any say in anything, but he’d opposed the fighting more and more vocally as he’d gotten older. Finally, his father had placed him under house arrest to keep him from inciting the already-restless villagers with “pointless hysteria” and “treasonous socialism.” The fact that Dan was running his mouth instead of riding out to the front lines with their armies was, according to Dan’s father, an absolute disgrace to the entire kingdom. He isn’t any more forgiving now that the war is over. Despite his mother’s protests, Dan had agreed, at his father’s behest, to formally rescind his inheritance and cede his future right to the throne to his younger brother, Adrian.

All he wants now is to get away from this godforsaken fortress and live a different kind of life. However, traveling costs money, as do food and shelter, and he has none of his own. 

The night following his abdication, he’s in his room making a list of the family heirlooms in his possession and their approximate market value when there’s a knock at his door. His mother enters before he can respond. He shoves the paper in his desk drawer and bites back a comment about waiting for permission to enter. He still has a shred of respect for his mother, and she looks upset.

“Daniel,” she says, wringing her hands. “I need to talk to you.”

He gestures towards the two chairs in his small sitting room. His mother sits, but she doesn’t speak again right away. Eventually she stops twisting her hands and places them flat in her lap. Dan turns his desk chair around so that he’s facing her, but he offers no further encouragement. He can’t imagine what could be worse than the ceremonial disgrace he’d gone through that afternoon, but he has a sinking feeling that he’s about to find out.

“An emissary arrived from the Lesters today,” she finally says.

Oh. That actually _did_ interest Dan. “About the treaty?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Please tell me that Father has finally agreed to their terms.”

She nods. “The treaty will be signed in two weeks, as soon as we can get to the port. Your father even managed to negotiate control of the mines.”

That’s good news for the villagers, at least. Even though he keeps a healthy tax cut for the royal treasury, Dan’s father allows the villagers to operate and profit off of the precious gems that they harvest from the mountains. It’s better than a lot of monarchs did. Not great, but better.

“How? It’s not like he has anything to offer.”

“Well …” Dan’s mother looks down at her lap. “Actually, he does.”

“And what’s that?”

“You know Prince Philip? Their younger son?”

Dan nods. 

“Well, he intends to marry now that the war is over.”

“What does that have to do with us? Are you about to tell me I have a secret sister hidden away somewhere?”

“No, Daniel. Prince Philip intends to marry a _man.”_

Dan flinches internally at the barely-concealed distaste in her inflection, even as his brain starts to put two and two together.

“It’s you, Daniel. You’re going to marry Prince Philip and seal the treaty for all of us.”

***

Less than two days later, Dan settles into a carriage with his brother and his parents to begin the long journey north to the bustling port city that Dan’s father had coveted so much that he’d sent countless men to their deaths for it. They’re traveling with little fanfare. A separate carriage carries their luggage, and one other carries their cook and his parents’ personal servants. No band, no dancers, no sparkling diamond-studded harnesses for the horses. The Lesters are allowing them some dignity in defeat, but it wouldn’t be prudent to attract too much attention to themselves in what is still, technically, enemy territory.

“You _are_ transporting their son’s bride, though,” Dan points out. That earns a smirk from his brother but a pointed glare from his father. His mother gazes out the carriage window and pretends not to hear him.

This is going to be a fun trip.

***

Dan spends most of his two weeks trapped in the carriage scribbling in his journal. It’s a handy way to avoid making eye contact (and god forbid, falling into conversation) with anybody else in the carriage, and it enables him to process, at least in part, the unexpected twist that his life is now taking.

He’s getting married. To a man he’s never met.

He knows surprisingly little about Prince Philip, considering he’s a public figure. Philip’s older brother, Martyn, is well known as both a soldier and a talented sportsman. He’s often the subject of speculation among diplomats and ladies alike, even now that he’s married, the father of two children, and seemingly unlikely to turn into a crazed despot. Philip, on the other hand, rarely gives anyone anything to gossip about. He has a reputation for being somewhat quiet and scholarly, and that’s about it.

Well, and handsome. Both brothers are rumored to be good-looking. Not that _that_ matters to Dan right now.

Dan is angry at his parents – _furious,_ in fact–that they’ve made this decision for him without even pretending to consider his feelings. But he’s been subject to their whims for 28 years. He’s used to that anger. The feeling he can’t quite process is _relief_. 

Finally, he has the opportunity to start over. This fresh start won’t exactly be a free one, but it’s not like he’s been harboring any dreams of settling down with a widowed noblewoman. For now, he tells himself, all that matters is that the treaty will be signed, the nuptials performed, and then his parents will turn around and go right back to their cold mountain fortress, leaving him in peace.

He feels bad for Adrian. But his brother is old enough now to make his own decisions, and he _had_ been the son upholding the family honor by riding gallantly into battle (after the fighting had mostly already stopped, of course). Dan won’t waste his time trying to convince Adrian to rebel when he already seems content to toe the line set by their father. And though undeniably a bit pompous, Adrian might surprise everyone and become a decent ruler someday.

Oh yes. The throne. Another prison Dan is perfectly happy to leave behind.

So he’s going to be a stranger’s husband. So what. It’s mostly ceremonial anyway. It’s not like they’re expecting him to bear children. 

If so, he looks forward to having a very refined and diplomatic discussion about the limits of human anatomy.

***

Despite an unexpected thunderstorm that temporarily closes the bridge spanning the river that marks the edge of the Lesters’ territory, the Howells’ somber caravan arrives in the vibrant port city fifteen days after leaving the mountains. The bad weather had fled as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind a cloudless sky and sunshine so bright that its reflection off of the sea is enough to give Dan a headache. 

He pulls his head back into the carriage and slumps in his seat. He’s too exhausted from traveling to enjoy the view, anyway.

“We’re almost there,” Dan’s father says, unnecessarily. The white-stone castle is clearly visible, rising up out of the middle of the city.

The going is slow, however, as it’s early afternoon and the streets are crowded with merchants and shoppers. The smell of cooking permeates the air, along with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Dan wonders if any of that laughter is reserved for the disgraced prince who is coming to wed one of their own. Do they pity him, or curse his name? He supposes only time will tell.

*** 

When Dan finally steps from the carriage and into the Lesters’ cobblestone courtyard, Prince Philip’s eyes are the first that catch his own. Or at least, he assumes Prince Philip is the one standing to the left of the King and Queen, as the man to the right is accompanied by a petite red-haired woman and two small, squirming children.

Prince Philip is, in fact, rather attractive. He’s tall (taller than his famous older brother) and lean, with brown hair swept off of his forehead in a quiff. He wears glasses, which surely contributes to his reputation as a bookworm. His lips creep up into a cautious smile as he looks at Dan, who is suddenly self-conscious about his own travel-worn appearance. He gives Philip a nod before pretending to examine the stonework above the castle’s main entrance. 

For the first time, anxiety creeps into his consciousness. What if Philip finds him disappointing? He tries to tell himself that he really doesn’t care. This is his ticket to a new life; it doesn’t need to be anything else. He and Philip just need to be able to tolerate each other.

His awkwardness is cut short when the two kings grimly shake hands. Formal introductions are made, and they are finally invited into the cool confines of the castle.

***

Dinner that night is uncomfortable. It isn’t like there is any alternative, given that their two families have been fighting for sixteen years and are suddenly about to become related by marriage, but still. The tension in the air is palpable. 

Dan is, of course, seated next to Philip. Thankfully he’d had the opportunity to retire to his own private room, bathe, and change his clothing before being summoned to the meal. His curls are at least somewhat tamed, and he no longer smells like the back-end of a horse.

The clanking of silverware is occasionally interrupted by requests to pass the butter or the salt, but there isn’t much conversation. Dan doesn’t mind. He’s been living on inn fare for the last two weeks, and everything in front of him tastes amazing in comparison.

“Do you want more?” Philip asks, raising an eyebrow at Dan’s empty plate. No one else has eaten even half of their food yet. 

Dan decides on the spot that he likes Philip’s voice, and not just because it’s offering him more food.

“No, thank you,” Dan says, even though he’s tempted.

“What about dessert?” 

“Oh, I definitely want dessert.” This time he doesn’t hesitate to return Philip’s soft smile. He notices that the eyes behind the glasses are incredibly blue.

***

At breakfast the next morning, Philip tells him that he prefers to be called Phil. Dan tries to protest, but Phil insists. “I hate Philip, it doesn’t feel like me. Besides, there’s not much point in sticking to formalities.”

True.

The anxiety that a few hot meals and a good night’s sleep had succeeded in abating creeps back into Dan’s consciousness. He does his best to ignore it.

“In that case, you’d better call me Dan. Only my parents call me Daniel.”

***

Dan and Phil aren’t alone together for three more days. In those three days, the peace treaty is formally signed, the marriage contract is drafted and reviewed by both families, they’re fitted for their suits, and they stand for their official wedding portrait. _That_ was an interesting experience. 

Phil had warned him that the court artist was a bit of an eccentric, but nothing could have prepared Dan for the tiny old woman with the flyaway silver hair and the long, crooked nose who looked like she belonged in an old fairy tale about witches, not making stuffy oil paintings that would inevitably be hung in some dusty gallery and forgotten about. She screamed at him every time he altered his expression or twitched a muscle, which made Phil giggle, which made her scream even more. Her name was Agnes and Dan kind of wished he was marrying her.

Except … he’s starting to like Phil a bit, too. 

It’s been a long time since he’s made anyone laugh. Maybe that’s all it is.

On the fourth day, there’s finally a break in the chaos, and Dan and Phil escape to the back gardens for a walk. It was Phil’s mother’s idea, but Dan isn’t complaining. Neither is Phil, judging by the grin on his face as he leads Dan down the path through the roses and towards the sound of running water. As they walk, he tells Dan about his plans to add a succulent garden now that the treaty is signed and he’s no longer needed to support the troops.

“You fought?” Dan asks. He tries to keep his voice neutral, but he can tell from Phil’s sideways glance that he isn’t entirely successful.

“Not exactly. I can barely keep my seat on a horse, even without a sword in one hand. Martyn fought. I just … kind of rode around on my old gelding and tried to keep people’s spirits up.”

Dan nods. It was different for Phil. Dan had been capable of fighting but had chosen not to. Phil would have fought for his family, but they let him aid their kingdom’s defense in other ways. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Phil’s family had been fighting to defend their land, while Dan’s had been fighting to take it away.

Dan remembers all of the scorched land and abandoned villages he’d seen on his way here and decides to change the subject. “Why did you decide to get married right away? Why not … plant some cacti first?”

Phil smiles but doesn’t answer right away. They arrive at the center of the rose garden, where an impressive marble fountain gurgles happily. Phil sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him, indicating that Dan should join him. He does, carefully leaving a few inches between their thighs.

“I’m thirty-two,” Phil says. “I’ve been waiting for marriage for a long time. When I was twenty, I told my parents that I would only consider marrying a man. They weren’t thrilled but they agreed, on two conditions. One was that I had to wait until Martyn was married and had ‘produced an heir,’ and then a backup heir for good measure. And unlike me, Martyn wasn’t so eager to settle down, so that took awhile.”

“And the other condition?”

Phil sighs. “That they would choose my husband for me, obviously.”

“Right.” Dan swallows. He isn’t sure whether he should ask his next question, but it’s probably better to do it now rather than later. “Was there, uh … was there someone else?”

Phil laughs. “No. Not really. No one serious, anyway. I mean, you know how it is. Scarcely a moment when someone’s not scrutinizing your every move. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You know. Was there someone back home?”

“Nope. Not in years. My father made sure of that.”

“Does he not … approve?” Phil waves his hand between them vaguely. Dan doesn’t need to ask what he means this time.

“You could say that.” Dan laughs bitterly. “When I was seventeen my father caught me, er, wooing one of the stablehands. He took me to the dungeons, gave me a broken rib or two, and then left me there for a week, until my mother’s crying annoyed him enough that he let me out. He’s never hit me again but he’s also never missed an opportunity to remind me that I’m a huge disappointment.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil says. He places a hand on Dan’s knee.

“It’s fine. A lot of people have suffered worse because of my father. And there’s poetic justice in this, in a way.”

“Still, though. My parents don’t like it, and in general they’re bad at hiding how much they wish I was more like Martyn, but they’ve never … abused me like that.”

Maybe Dan should resent Phil’s pity, but it doesn’t really feel like that, not when Phil’s tone is so sincere and his eyes are so kind. The weight of his hand feels reassuring.

Dan lets himself exhale.

***

After that, he and Phil find some time to spend together almost every day. There are two weeks before the wedding, and most of the decision making and preparation is being done without either of their input. So they walk in the garden and down by the ships, and they lounge in the library, and they even go out riding a couple of times (Phil, it turns out, was only _slightly_ exaggerating his lack of skill in that department). And whatever they do, they talk. 

It doesn’t take long for them to discover that they have quite a bit in common – their taste in novels, food, even music. When Phil finds out that Dan plays piano, his face lights up and he insists on a pre-dinner concert, ignoring Dan’s protests that he’s out of practice and sure to embarrass himself and/or irrevocably damage someone’s hearing. He does end up flubbing several notes in his favorite piece, but none of the Lesters seem to care. They all clap loudly (while Dan’s own family smiles politely), and at dinner, Phil reaches under the table to take Dan’s right hand in his left. Dan thinks he can detect some pink in Phil’s cheeks, but he doesn’t comment. They stay like that for the rest of the meal.

***

“What do you think?” Phil asks, gesturing towards the painting.

“I think,” Dan says, after a moment of feigned reflection, “that your father definitely paid Agnes an extra commission to make sure you look taller than me.”

It’s the night before the wedding and they’ve just finished dinner. The adults (and Adrian) had gone off to have a drink, while Phil’s niece and nephew were escorted to the nursery. 

Phil told Dan there was something he needed to see, so they went to the ballroom. Now here he is, gazing at himself in a painting in which he’s wearing a suit he hasn’t even put on yet in real life. 

And then there’s the man standing next to him. In the painting, and in real life.

Phil elbows him. “What do you really think? I think my eyebrows look weird.”

Dan thinks Agnes really managed to capture Phil’s defined cheekbones and the shape of his lips. But instead, he says, “Your eyebrows _are_ weird.”

“Hey!”

“At least Agnes didn’t paint you with a cheek defect.”

“You mean this?” Phil leans over and pokes the dimple in Dan’s left cheek. Dan tries to swat his hand away but somehow ends up holding onto Phil’s wrist. There’s a moment of silence, and then Phil leans in and presses his lips to Dan’s. He pulls away quickly, but Dan doesn’t let go.

“I’m sorry, I just figured – you know, before we have to do that in front of everyone tomorrow –” 

Dan tugs on Phil’s wrist until Phil stumbles into him and their lips reconnect. Dan lets his hands rest on Phil’s waist, then wander around to his lower back, pulling him even closer. Phil wraps a hand around the back of Dan’s neck. They stay like that, lips moving together like they’ve known each other for years instead of weeks, until they’re interrupted by a polite cough. 

They jump apart. Dan’s cheeks burn red. In the doorway, however, is just Cornelia, Prince Martyn’s wife. She smiles at them, and though it’s kind, Dan can tell there’s mischief behind her eyes as well. 

“I just thought you’d both like to know. The old folks have gone to bed, and we’re opening a bottle of the good wine.”

“Aren’t we saving that for tomorrow?” Phil asks.

Cornelia raises an eyebrow. “There’s plenty, don’t worry.”

“All right, we’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Do we have to?” Dan asks as soon as Cornelia leaves the room again.

“No,” Phil says. “But if we go have one drink, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

Dan grumbles but doesn’t protest when Phil takes his hand and leads him down the hall to the parlor. Martyn and Cornelia already have glasses in their hands, and two more, filled nearly to the brim, sit on the table in front of the fireplace. 

Even though the weather is mild, the heat from the fire feels good as Dan takes a seat on the sofa with Phil. Their hands remain linked as they carefully pick up their wine, and Dan sees Martyn’s gaze flicker in that direction for a brief moment before he clears his throat and raises his glass.

“Gentlemen, I think this occasion calls for a toast.”

Phil groans.

“My brother is incredibly annoying,” Martyn continues seamlessly, “but still, he’s my brother. And as such, I hope he knows that I only have his best interests at heart –”

“Martyn –”

“And he’ll forgive me for saying that I had doubts about this marriage that our parents have arranged for him. Dan, don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought Phil could do a whole lot better.”

“ _Martyn.”_ Phil puts down his wine glass too quickly; liquid sloshes over the brim and drips onto the polished wood table. “That’s enough. I’m serious.”

Cornelia puts a hand on her husband’s elbow. “Martyn, maybe you can just get to the point without being an ass?”

Dan realizes he’s squeezing Phil’s hand a bit too tightly and immediately loosens his fingers, moving his hand onto his own lap. Phil doesn’t seem to notice; he’s still glaring at his brother.

Martyn rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to say that I _had_ reservations. Phil was so eager to get married and set an example about … well, non-traditional relationships ... that he would’ve taken just about _anybody_ our parents picked for him. Including Dan.”

“Is this supposed to be helping?” Phil asks.

“Patience. I just mean, all we knew about Dan was that he’s the son of the man who nearly made sure that we didn’t have a future at all. Our parents are happy to overlook that because this union creates the kind of stability between two countries that no piece of paper ever could. I know I’m supposed to see it the same way, but Phil. You’re a pawn here.”

“Dan doesn’t have any more choice here than I do. And he never supported the war,” Phil says. 

A sick feeling is brewing in Dan’s stomach. Phil’s loyalty should make him feel happy. Instead, he feels … guilty?

“I know that now, Phil. That’s the point. We know Dan now and he’s actually pretty decent. And I’ve seen you two getting to know each other, and you seem to be getting along. So I’m happy for you. Both of you.” Martyn raises his glass. “Can we drink to that?”

“You’re an idiot,” Cornelia says, but she raises her glass as well, casting an apologetic glance that Dan thinks might be for him specifically.

Phil sighs and picks up his half-empty glass. “All right.”

Dan, still dealing with a whirlpool of emotions, doesn’t react at first. Then Phil nudges him with his shoulder, and Dan remembers to smile and raise his glass.

“To Phil and Dan!” Martyn says.

And they drink.

***

One glass each turns into three before Phil complains that it’s late and that he and Dan both have an early start tomorrow. 

“That was horrible,” Phil says as soon as they’re out of earshot. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dan says. He’s only partly lying. The toast had been awful, sure, but after they’d started drinking, things had improved quite a bit. Martyn had decided to regale them with a series of embarrassing stories from Phil’s childhood, and Cornelia had given Dan pointers on how to deal with the Lesters’ extended family. The combination of alcohol and neutral conversation topics had taken the edge off of Dan’s unease, if not diffused it completely.

But he’s relieved to be alone with Phil again.

He assumes Phil is leading him up to the wing in which his family’s guest quarters are located, to say goodnight, but that theory is disproved after they reach the top of the main staircase and turn right instead of left. At the end of a long hallway there’s another, much narrower staircase, which Phil immediately starts climbing, not stopping to check if Dan is behind him.

Dan follows without hesitation, but as the staircase winds higher and higher, he finds himself uncomfortably aware of how unfit he is after spending so many years confined indoors. He’s sweating in his button-up shirt and dinner jacket, and he hopes Phil can’t hear how hard he’s breathing. He has a stitch in his side. Right when he’s about to say farewell to his dignity and ask Phil to stop for a moment, or at least slow down, they make one last revolution and find themselves facing a single wooden door. Phil turns the handle and throws it open.

They’re at the top of a tower. Dan steps out after Phil and sucks in a much-needed breath of the brisk night air. It feels amazing. Before he can stop himself, he’s peeling off his jacket and tossing it on the ground. He turns to Phil with a grin, but the expression he finds on Phil’s face is uncharacteristically serious. 

“Come here,” Phil says, walking over to the outer railing. Dan follows. When he reaches the edge, he leans forward and rests his elbows on the stone, looking down at the city. Even though it’s late, lights still burn in a few windows. The moon, three quarters full, shines over the sea in the distance. Dan remembers the smell of salt in the air when they’d toured the shipyard and imagines that he can smell it on the air again now. It’s not as clean as mountain air, maybe, but Dan likes it anyway.

“Dan, you don’t have to marry me,” Phil says suddenly.

Like a marionette on a string, Dan stands up straight and turns to Phil, but Phil is still looking down at the city. “What are you talking about?” he asks.

“This is unfair to you,” Phil answers. “I mean, to both of us, maybe, but you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t set all of this in motion.”

“Are you crazy?” Dan is aware that he’s raising his voice but he’s somehow still surprised when Phil finally turns and makes eye contact with him. “Why are you saying this now?”

Phil shrugs. “What Martyn said, I guess. I know he was trying to say that I’m too good for you – which is ridiculous, by the way, and I’m sorry he said any of that – but the thing he said about me being a pawn. I’m not. I’m really not. It’s you who’s never had any choice about any of this. And I – I don’t think I can marry you, knowing I forced you into it.”

For a moment, Dan just stares, dumbfounded by Phil’s eyes, wide and pleading.

“No,” Dan finally says. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“Wh –” Phil starts but Dan doesn’t even let him finish the word. He grabs Phil by the front of his jacket, then pushes him back until his back meets the stone wall next to the door they came through from the staircase. Then he kisses him.

It’s not gentle and sweet like it was in the ballroom, just a few short hours ago. Dan kisses Phil like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get to do so. He lets go of Phil’s jacket, one hand moving to smooth down the front of Phil’s chest, the other moving to the back of Phil’s head, weaving into his hair (and also preventing him from getting accidentally concussed on the stone). He catches Phil’s lower lip between his teeth, tugging slightly, before letting go and letting his tongue brush over the indents. Phil moans and opens his mouth just slightly, and the kiss deepens, with Phil reaching out to grasp at Dan’s arms, then his shoulders, anything he can hold on to. 

It’s Phil who gives into the need to push their hips together, and even though it feels heavenly, that’s when Dan lets go and steps back.

They’re both breathing heavily now, chests rising and falling in tandem. Dan has to close his eyes for a moment so he doesn’t have to look at Phil’s tempting, kissed-red lips. Then he turns and picks up his jacket from the ground, throwing it over his arm.

“Phil, maybe none of this was my idea, but you’re wrong when you say I have a choice now. I have to do this for my people just as much as you do for yours. And even if there was another way to enforce the treaty, I’d still want this. I’d still _need_ this, because I can’t go back to the life I had before. So you can rest easy, okay? You’re not the selfish one here – I am. And I’ll be at the altar tomorrow. If you don’t want to go through with it, then that’s on you.”

Dan turns and disappears inside the tower, heading back down the staircase on shaking legs, before Phil can respond. But not before he catches one last glimpse of the shock and confusion written plainly on Phil’s face. 

**Author's Note:**

> reblog on tumblr [here](https://olfrogbait.tumblr.com/post/614390275096412160/first-violin-chapter-1-of-2-t-4926-words-pairing) :)


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